On the Subject of Children
by QuinnzelRose
Summary: Severus has never liked children, but sometimes things change.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to and is copyrighted to J.K. Rowling. I'm simply playing around in her world.**

If anyone had ever asked Severus Snape if he liked children, his answer would have been a resounding, unequivocal, irrevocable "No!"

Not that anyone ever asked him, of course.

No one would have ever assumed otherwise.

It didn't matter that he had spent just short of two decades teaching children because, after all, it wasn't as if it had been his choice. For most of his life, the choices he made were not his own. He had been a mere puppet, strung up by two puppet masters on opposing sides of a war, each tugging at their half of the strings to make their loyal spy dance in whatever manner benefited them most. The one thing they had in common, in terms of said benefits, was that it was to both their advantages to have him at Hogwarts, teaching.

So for seventeen grueling, dreadfully long years, he held his post as Hogwarts' Potions Master, while each September brought in a slew of new dunderheads that he would have to attempt to educate.

 _Attempt being the key word_.

At least half of his class time was always spent simply trying to keep the little gobshites from blowing themselves up and taking the rest of the class—himself included—down with them. The remaining time was spent trying to forcibly drive at least some portion of the intended curriculum into their dense skulls.

He loathed it.

And it wasn't just students specifically that he found he couldn't stand.

It was children in general.

Even his own godson, as a child, had made him squirm uncomfortably. He had agreed to be the boy's godfather, out of an obligation of friendship, not because he wanted to share a bond with the child. The first time Narcissa had tried handing the squalling bundle to him, he had quickly and adamantly refused, and when she had thrust the wailing infant into his arms anyway, he had very nearly passed out.

His interactions with his godson did become slightly more bearable as Draco aged. While he saw little of the child, he did send him two gifts every year, one for his birthday and one for Christmas and he had even, begrudgingly, allowed the boy to refer to him as "Uncle Severus" at Narcissa's insistence. And after the first few years, he realized that while he did care for his godson in some way, he still wasn't really sure that he _liked_ him. By the time Draco began at Hogwarts, however, Severus was definitely sure he didn't like the bratty little ponce.

That was the same year that marked the beginning of the end. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, had finally come to Hogwarts and Severus Snape very quickly and purposefully had made sure the boy knew just how much he despised him.

Truthfully, a large majority of the reason was simply necessity. The children of former Death Eaters would without a doubt be watching the way he interacted with "The Chosen One" and would be reporting their findings back to their parents.

So he had bullied Harry Potter, bullied his friends, and bullied any student that was not in Slytherin because that was what he was supposed to do; and to be quite honest he rarely—very rarely—ever felt bad about it.

And for sixteen years, he had thought that teaching children was the worst job he could ever imagine.

Then he became Headmaster, and it was so much worse.

He spent that year desperately trying to do his best to protect all the students that were under his care, while simultaneously maintaining a loyal Death Eater persona. No matter how much he didn't like the little ankle-biters, it didn't mean he was cruel enough to sit back and enjoy watching them being maimed and tortured at the hands of the Carrows.

That year was truly exhausting, and by the time he found himself lying on the cold, filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack, throat torn to shreds courtesy of the Dark Lord's bloody snake, Severus yearned for death. At least, if he was dead, his days of dealing with children would finally come to an end. He had given Potter his memories—the ones Albus had ordered him to give, because even in death he still had strings to pull—looked into Lily's eyes one last time, and waited for the blackness to take over.

He awoke two weeks later, in a nauseatingly pastel room in the Dai Llewellyn ward of St. Mungo's.

It had been Granger.

The annoying little swot hadn't let him die. She had come back for him and stabilized him long enough for the Healers to get to him, never caring whether or not he had wanted to live. It was another choice that had been taken from him, but he suddenly found himself too tired to give a shit.

Upon reading through the stacks of _Daily Prophets_ piled on his bedside table, he had discovered several things. That Kingsley Shacklebolt was the new Minister for Magic, that all former Death Eaters were being given speedy trials, and that his trial had been one of the first held. Potter and Granger had apparently sung his praises, defending him with a fervor he could not quite comprehend, and he had been acquitted of all charges.

They had called him a hero.

He scoffed at the week old paper; nothing could have been further from the truth.

He spent another two weeks recovering before he was able to convince the Healers to let him leave, and as he stepped out onto the streets of Muggle London, Severus realized that for the first time in almost twenty years, he answered to no one. He could leave. He could travel the world. Get away from this god forsaken place and all its terrible memories. He could do absolutely anything he wished.

Or so he thought. He should have known better.

The Ministry had insisted that he be available for all future trials for the remaining Death Eaters—both those that had already been caught, and the ones that the Aurors were still at large—a decision which they were quick to inform him of when he had submitted an application for an international Portkey.

Turned out he wasn't allowed to leave the country.

It was shortly thereafter that Minerva had approached him, with the Board of Governors approval behind her, requesting that he return to Hogwarts as its rightful Headmaster.

He told her to stuff it.

She did, however, manage to convince him to take tea in her office at least once a month or so. He knew that it was just a ploy so she could continue to pester him about reconsidering his teaching career. Each time he would refuse in a fit of colorful language and imagery that would leave the woman to muffle her amusement behind her cup of tea. She just did it to get a rise out of him, he was sure. Even his colleagues had known how much he despised dealing with the students, and the students—save perhaps a handful of his Slytherins—had returned his sentiments.

Severus Snape was, and would probably always be, the most hated Professor to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. It was a fact that never bothered him in the slightest; and while Minerva could argue that he was at least decent at teaching—given that his knowledge and natural talent for the subject far was superior to most others in his field—she truthfully could not call him a good teacher. He made a point of telling her such, and it did manage to stem her requests down to only every other month.

Eight months later he informed her that he had sold his home in Spinner's End and decided to open his own shop— _S.S. Specialty Potions_ —in Wizarding London. A decent sized shop with a worn stone front, windows covered with spiraling wrought iron grates, and a large cellar for brewing, research, and storage. He specialized in the more complex potions and brewed to order rather than in bulk. He had long been recognized as one of the most talented Potions Masters in Great Britain and made his mark selling potions that one could not easily buy in a regular apothecary.

After that, she had finally stopped asking him to come back to Hogwarts.

As long as he had a choice in the matter, he would never set foot into a classroom again. He would never deal with another student and he would never deal with another unruly, irritating, pesky little ragamuffin because Severus Snape did not like children.

At all.

And he never, ever would.

That is, until the day his daughter was born.

 **A/N: Thank you in advance to all who read and review! And a special thanks to Toodleoo, who beta'd this story for me. Without her, this story would have just ended up half finished in a random folder on my computer with all the other ones. Much love!**


	2. Chapter 2

Rose Eileen Granger-Snape was born on a rainy Sunday in late April, with a head full of dark curls, ten little fingers and ten tiny toes.

Severus held her as she opened her eyes for the first time, swaddled in a pale pink blanket and gazing up at him with the dark blue eyes of a newborn. He felt like his heart would burst.

In his forty-six years of life, he had never seen anything more perfect.

It had taken all of a few seconds for his daughter to completely and utterly win his heart, which was much faster than her mother had managed to accomplish. It having taken her years—years of pestering him to dance with her at every annual Ministry ball that celebrated their victory in the Second Wizarding War, years of letters asking for advice or discussing his research, and years of her making unneeded trips to his shop for potions she clearly had no need of, regardless of whatever terrible story she had concocted about it, and coaxing him to lunch afterward—before he had realized he had fallen in love with the woman.

The woman that had given him everything.

She had given him his life. She had given him her friendship. She had given him her heart, and then she had given him a child.

Their child.

His beautiful, perfect little girl.

…

So naturally by the time they had brought her home from the hospital, Rose already had her father wrapped around her chubby little finger. It took no time at all for everyone to realize that she was her father's daughter through and through.

…

Rose's first word was 'NO'—followed each time by a maniacal giggle—and it was her answer everything for two months solid.

By that point, his wife had started making a desperate attempt to get their daughter to say 'mama' as her second word. She would sit on the couch bouncing the little girl up a down in time with a repeated phrase of 'Say "mama," Rose. Say "mama".'

Severus didn't even bother to hide his triumphant smirk when his daughter had suddenly and quite emphatically squealed an ear piercing 'DAADAA'.

Hermione didn't speak to him for the rest of the day.

…

By the time she started to walk, Rose followed her father everywhere he went.

Everywhere except his labs—both the one in his shop and at home—which Severus had ruled were strictly off limits to the little girl. That rule had lasted just shy of six months.

Before she had even made it to her third birthday, she was oftentimes found in her father's basement lab, donned in the tiniest matching dragon hide apron and glove set one had ever seen, her back pressed into her father's chest as he helped her to guide the stirring rod around the cauldron.

It was precious, really.

…

When she came of age to start pre-school, Severus threw an absolute fit over the whole thing.

He and Hermione argued for weeks over whether or not she was ready to be away from them for that long, and entrusted in the care of some stranger who was—in Severus's opinion—a bumbling, incompetent twit. An opinion which, when expressed to his wife, received an exasperated response of, 'You haven't even met the woman yet, Severus.'

 _Well, that was beside the point._

In the end, the decision was made for them when their barely 4-year-old stated, with her little hands on her hips in a way that made her look exactly like her mother, that she was 'Gonna go to pwe-school wif Awbus.'

And that was that.

…

Severus couldn't say he was pleased with the fact that his daughter's childhood best friend was her pseudo-cousin Albus Severus—the _nerve_ , honestly—Potter, but the children had been inseparable from the time they were in nappies.

At least his younger godson was marginally less annoying than his equally ridiculously named siblings. Honestly, Potter should have let his wife name their children. Then again, Ginevra had once named an owl Pigwidgeon, so their children probably would have ended up with absurd names either way.

…

Despite his previous hatred of teaching, Severus did, at one time, consider taking back his old position as Potions Master at Hogwarts. When he mentioned it to his wife, she shook her head and grinned at him, telling him that he could not go back to teaching just because their daughter would be leaving for Hogwarts that year.

He knew she was right, of course, but that did not stop him from spending the next several days sulking about it.

…

The following September, reluctant as he was to let her go, Severus saw his daughter off at Kings Cross Station.

Rose had wrapped her arms around her father's neck, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and whispered a promise in his ear that she would write as soon as she made it to her dorm. After giving her mother a similar goodbye, their daughter made her way up the platform, stopping to link arms with Albus Potter and dragging him over to meet up with an obviously nervous Scorpius Malfoy. She turned back to wave excitedly at her parents one last time before disappearing onto the train.

Severus clutched his wife's hand in his, still silently debating on whether or not he should owl Minerva and attempt to convince her to sack her new Potions Mistress.

…

Later that night, they had received a smudgy, tear-stained letter from their daughter, informing them that the sorting hat had placed her in Ravenclaw.

Albus and Scorpius had been sorted into Slytherin.

He and Hermione had not been surprised that Rose had been sorted into Ravenclaw. After all, she was far too like her mother to be a Slytherin, and far too like her father to be a Gryffindor, but their hearts still broke at their daughter's obvious distress.

Hermione penned a letter back that night, letting her know that they were both proud of her, and that Ravenclaw would be a good fit for her if she gave it a chance. After all, she would still see plenty of Albus and Scorpius during and in between classes.

Severus had added a note at the bottom letting her know that she was welcome to come back and be homeschooled if she ending up hating Hogwarts. Hermione had marked out his comment, adding underneath it that there would be no need for that because their daughter would love Hogwarts, Slytherin or not.

…

And love Hogwarts she did, if the weekly owls to her parents were anything to go by.

When she wasn't in class, the new resident Potions whiz spent her most of her time between her Slytherin childhood friends, and studying or doing homework in the library with her dorm-mate, a Muggleborn witch named Tamsin.

Rose had become fast friends with the petite, overly flamboyant girl, and she had even begged her parents to let the girl come home with her for the Christmas hols that year—and every year after that, much to Severus's displeasure.

Hermione adored the girl. Severus thought she made Luna Lovegood seem normal by comparison.

…

In her second year, Rose caved to Tasmin's constant pestering, and joined her friend in auditioning for Professor Flitwick's frog choir.

However, no amount of her friend's begging and pleading was able to stop Rose from leaving after the first dress rehearsal, when the toad she was holding decided to take a wee on her favorite jumper.

…

In her third year, she received her very first detention.

They had received two letters that day—one from their daughter, and one from her Professor—and between the two, he and Hermione were able to piece together the gist of the story.

Apparently, while studying shrinking solutions in class her Professor claimed that lackey moth caterpillars could be used as a substitute for the more commonly used drinker moth caterpillars by using a total of four rather than five to accommodate the size difference.

The Professor was wrong, of course. It was in fact fox moth caterpillars that could be substituted not lackey moth caterpillars, due to the difference in their diet.

When the Professor didn't take kindly to being corrected, Rose called the woman an imbecile.

After their laughter had died down and his wife finished wiping the tears from her eyes, she sent an owl to the Professor, assuring her that such a display would never happen again.

Severus snuck off to the lab and wrote his own letter, suggesting that if she could not insure that she was giving her students the correct information, perhaps his daughter should be teaching the class in her stead.

…

In her fourth year, Rose very suddenly became obsessed with Quidditch.

Hermione was quite certain that it wasn't so much that she enjoyed the sport itself, but more that Scorpius Malfoy had made the Slytherin Quidditch team that year.

Severus disagreed.

Vehemently.

Severus was also wrong.

…

In her fifth year, Rose was made prefect, and received a total of 11 O.W.L.s: 9 Outstandings and 2 Exceeds Expectations.

Her parents couldn't have been more proud.

...

The first weekend of October, in her sixth year, Rose finally asked Scorpius Malfoy to go to Hogsmeade with her. Considering they always went to Hogsmeade together, it took a bit of explaining for Scorpius to realize that she meant the two of them _alone_.

He said yes, naturally.

Neither his daughter nor his wife bothered to tell Severus.

He had not found out until Christmas hols, when his daughter stepped off the train leading Scorpius Malfoy by the hand, and stopped to practically choke the boy with her tongue before they split off to join their families.

Hermione thought it was sweet. Severus nearly had a heart attack.

…

Much to everyone's surprise, Rose turned down the title of Head Girl in her seventh year.

There were varying excuses for her reasoning, depending on who asked, but it was her father who finally managed to get the truth out of her.

'I want to make the most out of my last year,' she wrote. 'I'll have enough pressure on my shoulders studying for my N.E.W.T.s and I would at least like to enjoy the rest of the time I have without having to wipe the snotty little noses of a dozen sniveling firsties.'

He showed Hermione the letter over breakfast the next morning, and she gave him a mock glare over her eggs. 'That girl is too much like you sometimes, you know.' He quirked an eyebrow at her and downed the rest of his coffee to hide his smirk.

He knew.

…

Severus was jolted from his reverie as something slammed into the back of his knees, almost sending him to the floor. He regained his balance to find a small ginger-haired little boy chasing a smaller blonde-haired little girl, who had taken the liberty of hiding behind his legs in attempt to escape her tormentor. He stepped to the side, giving the two Weasley children—whose names he couldn't quite remember given how many of them there were—a classic Snape glare that sent them scampering back off to the other side of the room where they belonged.

There was a soft giggle to his right, and he turned to find his daughter attempting to muffle her laugh behind her hand, her dark eyes glittering in amusement. "The Snape glare still works every time," she said, grinning up at him.

He snorted, the corner of his lips curling slightly. "Just because it never worked on you, doesn't mean I've lost my touch, little witch."

"Of course not, Dad," she agreed, still smiling. "Never was there a doubt in my mind. I—"

"Hey, Rose! I want one more picture before this thing starts!" A shrill voice called over his shoulder. Severus rolled his eyes.

Rose shrugged. "You've got to love her," she said with a wink before making her way across the room where Tamsin was excitedly waving a camera.

" _Like hell I do_..." Severus grumbled under his breath.

A slim arm snaked around his waist, and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. "Are you ready for this?" his wife questioned in his ear.

"No," he sighed, turning to face her, "but she is. And there's no stopping her now."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "Our little girl isn't so little anymore, Severus."

He followed her gaze back to his daughter, watching her pose for what had to be the thousandth photo of the day. She stood there in her beaded ivory gown, dark curls twisted about her head and pinned with a dozen pearl barrettes. Her bouquet was clutch in her hand as she beamed at the camera.

She was every bit as beautiful as her mother.

He lifted his wife's hand from where it lay against his ribs, and wrapped it in his own before pressing it to his chest. Never would he have thought he would be standing there, in a church—a _father_ —ready to walk his daughter down the aisle.

There was a sudden ear-piercing screech as the flower girl had her little white flower basket snatched away from her by the ring bearer, who took off running before she could catch him. It took two bridesmaids and a second Snape glare—this time from his daughter—to get the basket back to its rightful owner.

Severus shook his head and sneered. His view on children would never change.

As a general rule, Severus Snape still did not like children.

His daughter was simply the exception to that rule.

 **A/N: Again, thank you in advance to everyone who reads and reviews!**


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